A Hard Woman Is Good To Find

"Excuse me," said a husky, feminine voice, "Would you mind spotting for me? There's no one else here." The voice continued, "I'd like to do a set of heavy bench-presses before I finish my workout, but I haven't lifted heavy in a while."

"Sure," I answered, as I looked up at the young woman. It was very late on a Thursday night. Besides the lone staff member, we were the only two people still left in the gym. I was sitting on a bench, cooling down after a hard workout, and an even harder day at work. I had a lot of things on my mind that day and I had barely even looked at the other people in the gym the entire night. I'm a project manager for a construction company, so I often have to work late to finish construction bids that are due the next morning.

The woman was fairly tall, at about five-feet eight-inches. She was wearing a baggy sweat suit, that almost completely hid her figure, but I could clearly see she had the broad shoulders of a seasoned weightlifter. She was also wearing a pair of worn leather, fingerless lifting gloves; another sign that she was no novice to pumping iron.

She had a cute, almost pixy face, with clear, wide-set, gray-blue eyes and very short, crop-cut, dark-brown, almost black hair. I judged her, age-wise, to be to be somewhere in her late twenties. I keep using the term "woman" instead of "girl" to describe her, because in spite of her age, she was clearly not a little girly-girl. Given the woman's deep, dark tan, I immediately suspected that she was a bodybuilder.

But, the woman didn't have that emaciated, dried-out look, like a lot of female bodybuilders, so I wasn't completely sure if she was one. On top of that, a lot of female bodybuilders favor the brassy, longhaired, bleach-blonde bombshell look. Or, maybe, those women are all trying to look like California surfer girls? Anyway, I'm not really sure why so many female bodybuilders go the longhaired, bleach-blonde route, but if this young woman was a bodybuilder, she definitely wasn't going along with the stereotype of the sport.

I followed the woman over to her bench and was surprised to see that she was using an Olympic bar and some very heavy weights. Very few women can do that. As I took my place behind her, as her spotter, she quickly knocked out a high-repetition set of heavy bench-presses. "Wow!" I thought to myself, this girl is really strong!"

"I'm impressed," I said, when she finished, "There aren't many women that can handle that much weight so easily." I continued, "Are you a bodybuilder?" I thought that it would be more diplomatic to ask her if she was a bodybuilder. The woman might have been insulted if I had, instead, asked her if she was a powerlifter! I finished, "From your tan, I'm guessing that you're a bodybuilder, although you're certainly strong enough to be a powerlifter."

Her cute face broke into a big smile, so I was pleased to see that my compliment, and my attempt at diplomacy, had been successful. She chuckled, "Good guess! I used to be a hardcore bodybuilder." She finished, as she looked at my own broad shoulders, thick chest, and eighteen-inch arms, "And, from the looks of it, I'd say that you're a bodybuilder, too."

"Thanks," I said, "I am, but I'm not hardcore anymore, either."

"I'm Christine, by the way," she said, as she offered me her hand, "So, did you ever compete?"

"I'm Walt," I answered, as I took her strong hand, "I competed a few times, years ago, but I'm not really into all of that strict contest dieting. I like to eat way too much!"

"I can relate to that!" Christine answered with a delightful laugh, "Well, it was nice meeting you, Walt. Thanks for the spot!" as she turned and headed for the women's locker room.

******

I ran into Christine, again at the gym, the following week. She waved to me when she came in and later came over to ask me if I would spot for her again. She was wearing those same baggy sweats, so other than seeing her broad shoulders again, I still had no idea what kind of a figure she had. But, I thought, "We seem to be keeping similar hours. Maybe she'd make a good workout buddy."

On that day, it was earlier in the evening. After she finished her heavy set of bench presses, I was really curious to learn more about her, so I said, "It's still fairly early, Christine. Would you like to go get a cup of coffee, or something, with me?" I finished with a laugh, "After I take a shower and change into my street clothes, of course!"

Christine looked at me carefully and hesitated. Finally, she said, "I'd like to, Walt, but I really have to get going. I have to get up very early tomorrow morning. Will you give me a rain check on that coffee?"

"Sure, Christine," I answered, "We'll go out for coffee some other time."

Thanks, Walt!" she said with a smile, "I'm sure that I'll see you in here again, real soon. Well, I've got to get going now. Good night!"

"Good night, Christine!" I said, as she walked away. At that point, I shrugged my shoulders and headed for the men's locker room. I really didn't expect anything to come out of our little rain check agreement.

******

The following Wednesday, however, I did see Christine again at the gym, as soon as I walked in. To my surprise, she came right over to me and said, "Hi, Walt! I just got here a few minutes ago, myself. Can I cash in my rain check for that coffee, this evening?"

"That would be great, Christine!" I answered, "I plan on working out for about an hour and a half. How about you?"

"About the same," she replied.

"Well then, we can go for coffee after we're finished," I said.

Again, Christine was wearing those baggy sweats that almost completely hid her figure. We agreed to meet at the front desk, after we had finished our workouts, showered, and changed into our street clothes. I, of course, was finished first, and was waiting for her to come out of the women's locker room.

When Christine walked up to me, at last, she was wearing a plain, white, long-sleeved, cotton blouse and blue jeans. In her street clothes, I could now see that, besides her broad shoulders, Christine had the classic, vee-shaped torso of a real bodybuilder. She had a wide chest, average, maybe B-cup size breasts, a narrow waist, and very thick thighs. I still couldn't clearly see Christine's arms, in that long-sleeved blouse, but they appeared to be fairly muscular.

"Nice," I thought to myself, "she doesn't have one of those 'monster porn star boobjobs', like a lot of female bodybuilders are getting these days."

It's an unfortunate fact, but one of the side effects of being a successful, competitive, female bodybuilder is that their breasts start to disappear as the put on muscle. It's all because the women have to keep their percentage of body fat very low in order to show off their muscles to their full advantage. But, when the women's percentage of body fat goes way down, so does the size of their breasts.

We agreed on a place, and she followed me, in her car, to a nearby coffee shop. We also decided to treat ourselves to desert, as well as coffee, while we talked. Christine told me she had just moved into the area and that she was a Nutritionist at one of the local hospitals. Nutrition goes hand-in-hand with bodybuilding, so Christine's career and hobby were in harmony.

I told Christine a little bit about myself and, before we had finished our deserts, I asked the vivacious young woman to go out with me on a real date. On Saturday night, I was going to take her out for dinner and a movie.

******

Our first Saturday night date was fairly conventional. I took Christine out to a restaurant that, I knew, served some huge portions of prime rib. She was impressed with my choice of restaurants and we both wasted little time in wolfing down our meals. Christine was pleased that she didn't have to hide her appetite from me. For those of you that don't know, bodybuilders consume a lot of calories on an everyday basis. Therefore, some women bodybuilders tend to be self-conscious about eating in public.

Christine had dressed very conservatively for our date, wearing a jacket over her blouse and a knee-length skirt. So, I didn't get a really good look at her bodybuilder's physique that night, other than seeing that she had very strong looking, muscular calves.

We talked a lot, after we had eaten, and I had a lot of fun on that date with Christine. So, when I took her home, I asked her if she wanted to go into New York City with me, the following Saturday afternoon, to see a special, traveling art exhibit at The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Christine readily agreed to go with me, but, almost immediately, started worrying about what she should wear.

I laughed and told her, "Well, I think that we should both wear black-on-black, Christine. If we're going to go to a fancy art exhibit, we should, probably, dress to impress the artsy crowd that will be there."

Christine looked at me closely, for a few seconds, then she smiled and said, "All right, Walt! That sounds like fun!" as she kissed me on the cheek. She finished, "It's a date then! I'll see you next Saturday!" as she closed the door to her apartment.

******

I ran into Christine once, at the gym, during the following week. Again, we went out for coffee and desert after our workouts. Over coffee, she told me that she was putting together a special black-on-black outfit for our Saturday afternoon date, just to wow the artsy crowd at the museum, of course.

******

When I picked Christine up on Saturday for our date to the museum, I was dressed as we had agreed. I wore a black blazer over a black, long-sleeved, turtleneck shirt, along with black slacks, and, of course, black shoes and socks.

Christine had also chosen to wear a black blazer over a black turtleneck, along with a very short, black-leather mini-skirt, and opaque black tights. Black, stiletto, high-heeled shoes, and dark sunglasses completed her stunning outfit.

The guys that think that female bodybuilders look too much like men just don't appreciate the legs and magnificent asses on these women. In my humble opinion, there are few things more feminine, and more sexy, than a female bodybuilder's firm, shapely ass. Christine was certainly showing her very firm, shapely ass and legs to their full advantage in her short, black-leather mini-skirt that day!

She had also spent some time applying her makeup. When she took off her sunglasses, I could see that Christine had gone the full route; mascara, dark eyeliner, dark-smoky eye shadow, rouge blush, and dark, sexy lip gloss. I had never seen her wear any noticeable makeup, before that day. A pair of diamond stud earrings, with no other jewelry, completed her stunning look.

"Wow!" was all that I could say at first, when I saw her standing at the door.

"You like?" she asked, obviously very pleased with my reaction to her outfit.

At the same time, I was thinking to myself, "Oh god! I want those muscular thighs wrapped around my waist right now!"

"Why, thank you, Walter!" Christine said, as she walked up to me and kissed me demurely on the cheek.

When she moved closer to me, I could smell the musky fragrance of her perfume. I was about to take her in my arms and kiss her on the mouth when she suddenly stepped away.

"Oh!" Christine cried in concern, "Maybe I should put on some other shoes!"

"Why?" I asked, perplexed by her sudden distress.

"Don't you think that these shoes make me look too tall?" she asked anxiously.

"No, Christine!" I laughed, "You look fantastic in those shoes!" I continued, "Now, let's get going, if you're ready!" I was truly amused by her concern over her shoes. After all, my ego could certainly handle the fact that my new girlfriend appeared to be about two inches taller than I, when she wore those incredibly sexy, four-inch, stiletto, high-heeled shoes!

It's about an hour and a half drive from our town to New York City. So, Christine and I had plenty of time to talk on our way to the museum. She told me that she didn't go with me for coffee, when I had first asked her, because she needed some time to "check me out". She went on to tell me that she has run into some very strange people over the years, because of her bodybuilder's physique. She finished by saying that all of the people that she had talked to, at the gym, thought that I was a fairly normal person.

"Only fairly normal?" I asked in amusement.

"Yes," she answered with a smile, "Only fairly normal." Christine continued, "They said that you're usually pretty quite and that you don't hit on the women in the gym, like a lot of the guys."

"Oh," I said in surprise, "you thought that I was hitting on you, when I first asked you to go for coffee with me?" I continued, "Actually, at the time, I just wanted to learn some more about you."

"I wasn't really sure what your intentions were," she answered, "But, like I've already told you, Walt, I've met some very strange people over the years."

As we entered the museum, from the parking garage, we made quite an impression. A lot of people turned to look at us as we walked by. In truth, they were looking more at Christine than they were at me, as she was an absolutely stunning sight. "My god!" I thought, "Look at those legs of hers!"

It was my turn to be surprised when we reached the coat-check area. As I helped Christine take off her jacket, I saw that her black turtleneck was actually a sleeveless shell. From the way her hard, erect nipples poked out against the fabric, it was obvious that she was braless underneath her tight top. But, I thought in amusement, "Why should a woman with firm, hard breasts like her have to wear a bra, anyway?" Yes, Christine was definitely showing off her figure that afternoon!

"Still," I thought to myself, "a little showing off is to be expected from a girl who's used to prancing around on stage, in front of hundreds of people, wearing just a skimpy bodybuilder's posing bikini."

That afternoon, Christine looked like an exotic, almost fetish version of a Parisian fashion model. She was way too muscular to be mistaken for your typical, anorexic-looking model, but she looked very chic and very hot to me. With her erect nipples poking out against the tight fabric of her top and that very short, black-leather mini-skirt, there was no mistaking that there was a real woman under her clothing. As I continued to stare at her, I suddenly became very aware of the erection poking out against my trousers.

Recovering from my surprise, I held her jacket in front of me, to hid my erection, and said, "My god, Christine, you look really hot!"

"Why, thank you, Walter!" she said, as she turned to model her outfit for me, "I thought that I'd show off a bit on our date this afternoon!"

Frankly, I just don't understand the fascination that most people have with fashion models and their skinny, pipestem arms and legs. Maybe I've spent way too much time in the gym, but to me, those women just don't look very healthy. I'll admit, I really don't get turned on by women with arms as big as Arnold Schwarzenegger's, but on the other hand, I do have a weakness for women that have some meat on their bones. To me, Christine's muscular arms looked pretty damn good. They were well developed, but not with all of the thick veins and deep "cuts" of a female bodybuilder onstage at a contest.

Christine's well developed, well-defined deltoids were also clearly displayed by her sleeveless shell. Anyone that knows anything at all about bodybuilding would instantly recognize that Christine was a bodybuilder, just by looking at her shoulders.

"Why don't you check your jacket, too, Walt?" she asked.

Even with my arms covered in the long sleeves of my turtleneck shirt, without my jacket, it was obvious that I, too, was a bodybuilder. Christine and I received a lot more appreciative looks as we strolled around the art exhibit. We were even approached by an infatuated, artsy-type guy, who had to be gay, about modeling for him. He gushed that he wanted to photograph Christine as an Amazon Warrior. He, also, wanted me to be photographed with her, as her captive.

As our would-be photographer fawned over Christine, I thought to myself, "An Amazon Warrior! Now that would be really appropriate for this woman!" Still, I wasn't exactly crazy about the captive thing.

"Oh yes, a few times," she giggled, "But, I really don't want to do that anymore."

Christine held onto my arm as we strolled around the art exhibit. She made it very clear to me, as she occasionally stroked my biceps, that she was thoroughly enjoying herself. I was thoroughly enjoying myself as well, and was very proud to have her on my arm that afternoon. When I asked Christine what she would like for dinner, after we were through seeing the art exhibit, she surprised me.

"I have plenty of food, already prepared, back home in the refrigerator, Walt," she said, "Why don't we leave the city now, before it gets too late, and I'll feed you back at my place?"

"That sounds nice!" I answered, thinking about how I'd really like to get Christine alone now, as quickly as possible.

Christine was very animated and talkative on our drive home. She told me a lot more about her earlier experiences in bodybuilding. It turned out that she had actually considered becoming a professional bodybuilder, but gave it up when things started to get way too crazy. Christine told me, without my asking, that she had even taken steroids for a short time. She stopped taking them, however, when she started to get the 'roid rages'.

I was surprised by Christine's honesty when she said, "Besides the trouble with the 'roid rages', I really didn't want my little female clitoris to grow into a big male penis." She continued, "I would, also, have had to get big breast implants if I wanted to make it as a professional bodybuilder. Almost all of the really successful, professional women bodybuilders have them."

She really surprised me, thought, when she told me, "Did you know that a lot of professional women bodybuilders support themselves by being paid to do coed wrestling and 'muscle worship' sessions?"

I admitted, "I had heard that, Christine. Is it really all that common?"

"Oh, yes!" she replied, "But, that's just way too bizarre for me!" She continued, holding her thumb and forefinger a fraction of an inch apart, "That's about this far away from prostitution, as far as I'm concerned!" She finished, "That's another reason why I didn't accept your invitation for coffee, when we first met. You would be amazed at how many times I've been propositioned to do wrestling and 'muscle worship' sessions, by both men and women!"

"Men and women?!" I said in surprise.

"Oh, yes!" she answered, "You would be amazed by how many times women come on to me!"

I thought about it, for a few seconds, and then realized that I really shouldn't be too surprised. There are a lot of gay and bisexual guys out there that have a thing for muscular guys. There are also a fair number of women that claim to be turned off by guys with big muscles. But, for every one of those women, there must be ten other women who go absolutely crazy over really muscular guys. If there are as many gay, or bisexual, women in the world as there are guys, it stands to reason that some of those women would have a thing for other muscular women.